


Sunburn

by rudbeckia



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crack, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Secret Identity, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 13:31:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18621625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rudbeckia/pseuds/rudbeckia
Summary: Hux is on a well earned vacation, paid for by his employers. He falls for a good looking fellow-vacationer called Ben, but after several embarrassing encounters and a failed date Ben ignores him in favour of an older man. Amucholder man. Angry that Ben has a sugar daddy, Hux propositions another man and flaunts him in front of Ben. When Ben calls him out on it, they argue then talk through their misunderstandings and Ben invites Hux back to the holiday home he has been using, where Ben’s ‘sugar daddy’ catches them in averycompromising position.Next day, Ben is gone.It’s just a holiday romance and nothing will come of it, right?





	Sunburn

Hux woke up with that first-day-of-the-vacation uncertainty about what time it was, where he was and, frankly, who he was. He blinked and focused on the pristine white ceiling and tasteful mahogany ceiling fan, and lay still until he remembered. Five whole days in an exclusive seaside resort with everything included. Meals, drinks, gymnasium, spa treatments, excursions (should he wish to leave the beach, pool and beachside bar, which he doubted), all on First Order credit. After the long hours he’d put in to see that his prototype weapon was completed on time and tested successfully on a small scale, he’d earned this. And when he returned to the business he would be a director at an age when his father was a jumped-up tea boy. A fitting reward, he thought. With a little pang of sadness, he mused that CEO Sloane would have been proud. If only Brendol had still been around to choke on his own indignation when he learned that he’d been outpaced again by his _useless_ son! After this promotion, perhaps their new CEO might involve him in proper face to face meetings instead of communicating terse orders through memos and emails.

With a smile, he got out of bed and into the shower then dressed in distinctly non-office clothes: a colourful yet tasteful short sleeved shirt, knee length shorts and sandals. He considered socks for a few seconds then decided to live dangerously and leave them off. Wearing very brief swimming shorts in place of underpants felt deliciously daring enough. He headed down to the dining room for breakfast. The short line made him sigh, and the man directly in front of him was talking loudly whilst wearing a discreet, wireless hands-free device that made him look like he was conducting an argument with an imaginary friend. Hux tutted at his back, then looked pointedly at the notices declaring _The Breakfast Room is a Quiet Zone. Please be Considerate._ He glared harder at the back of the man’s head, then the phone in his hand, wondering how he coped with a phone so small. With shock Hux realised the man was cradling the phone one model up from his own, and larger, as if it was a toy. This gave Hux a new internal complaint. There was no need, _absolutely_ no need, for anyone’s paws to be that big. With a smirk, he wondered how the buffoon ever managed to text, then wondered if his cock would be completely engulfed by one of those hands. With a tingle in his groin, he wondered how it would feel to have those massive paws warm his skin, and to push his own slender fingers through the stranger’s thick, wavy hair.

Hux chose from the range of gourmet teas and ordered his eggs to be boiled for exactly one hundred and sixty seconds rather than simply selecting two from the hotplate. On the way to his table, he caught a glimpse of Man Mountain tucking into a plate haphazardly laden with bacon, three kinds of eggs, hash browns and the tomato salsa he’d side-eyed in case it was spicy. Mountain’s eyes met his for a second and Hux looked away, heat creeping up his throat at having been caught looking. It ought not to be allowed, he decided, eating in such a disorganised manner. Hux glanced back and the Mountain grinned at him. Hux walked to his table and chose the seat facing away so that he could disapprove in private.

When Hux had drunk his tea, devoured his perfectly boiled eggs with toast and followed that up with the luxury of a small fresh fruit salad, he rose to find that the Mountain had gone. He hummed in relief, despite not being quite sure what he was relieved _about_ , and headed back to his room to check his schedule for his first day of leisure. He had a massage booked for nine-thirty then he planned to spend the rest of the morning reading by the pool, perhaps swimming if it was quiet enough. After that, he would have lunch in the resort’s diner then laze around on the beach for the afternoon, counting down until five o’clock when he could reasonably order a champagne cocktail and not be considered louche. Dinner would follow that, then perhaps a stroll along the cool, damp sand by the edge of the water before bed.

The resort spa was decorated in tasteful shades of off-white and lit softly. Relaxing piano music tinkled from hidden speakers. Hux was led into a treatment room that had three massage couches spaced along one side and screened off from each other by slatted, foldable wooden partitions. The couch at the far end was already occupied and Hux thought he recognised the dark, lustrous waves that fell over the client’s face. Hux undressed down to his swimming briefs and lay supine on the second couch, modesty doubly protected by towels. His massage therapist adjusted the screen, but if he turned his head just so, Hux found he could see a stripe of his neighbour’s skin through one of the gaps where the screen hinged. His massage therapist smiled and got to work. As he relaxed into the firm yet gentle and rhythmic pressure of hands on his legs, Hux realised he could hear other noises above the generic relaxation track. The client behind the screen was letting out soft little moans and groans. Hux frowned and pointed, mouthing, _”What’s going on?”_ at his massage therapist.  
He grinned and shrugged, leaning close to whisper. _“Sounds like he’s relaxing. He’ll start snoring soon.”_  
He was right. As Hux turned onto his front to have his back massaged, he could hear his neighbour’s soft snorts and snuffles. It wasn’t long before Hux started to drift off too, imagining that the hands stroking and squeezing out the tension from his calves and thighs were larger, warmer, rougher, and maybe wandering just a little higher. The hot tingle started in his groin again and Hux opened his eyes to bring himself back into reality. The massage therapist’s voice spoke quietly and his hands stilled on his hamstrings. “Do you want me to do your gluteals, sir?”  
“Uh?”  
“Some people like it, some don’t. Would you like me to massage your gluteal area?”  
“My... uh?”  
A deeper voice sailed over the dividing screen. “Your ass. Do you want him to massage your ass.”  
“Sir!” a female voice, sharper. “Please do not spoil the experience of other clients.”  
“Sorr-ree!”  
Hux huffed, The man did not sound sorry in the slightest. He turned his head to look at his massage therapist. “No thanks,” he said, then settled down again. He heard the other massage therapist tell her client to lie still for a few minutes then get up slowly when he was ready, and he heard her soft footsteps padding out of the treatment room. When he turned his head and looked through the gap again, he saw the other man sit up then stand, turning this way and that to retrieve his clothing. Hux closed his eyes and swallowed, sure his face must be glowing. The man had been nude and from what Hux had glimpsed, he’d had a rather impressive, half-hard cock springing from a bed of dark hair. The next time the massage therapist’s hands passed over Hux’s lower back, he asked him to stop.  
“Thank you, I think I’m relaxed enough,” he said, trying not to move his hips in case he accidentally started rutting against the couch.  
“Oh? you still have fifteen minutes. Would you like me to do your feet instead?”  
“No, thank you.”  
“Okay. Lie still for a few minutes then sit up slowly. Don’t stand up too quickly.”  
Hux smiled and nodded. There was no way he was standing up too soon and risking revealing the reason for his discomfort.

Later, Kindle in hand and beach towel over his shoulder, Hux walked out to the poolside. It was early enough that it was quiet and Hux chose a lounger at the shady corner, far from the bar that hadn’t opened yet. Another hotel guest was swimming lengths with long, powerful stokes, his tanned back glistening with water, muscles rippling underneath, dark hair streaming out behind when he swam and swirling when he executed turns under water. Hux thought he was a showoff, but he watched from behind his sunglasses all the same. He watched even harder as the swimmer reached the far end of the pool, braced his arms and pushed, deltoids and triceps bulging, levering himself out of the water. For a glorious, crystalline moment, water shook like diamonds from the man’s hair, and Hux forgot to hide his stare. Fortunately, the swimmer stood with his back to Hux (and what a broad, muscular back it was, tapering to narrow hips) giving Hux the chance to regain his composure somewhat before the swimmer turned.

It was Him. From breakfast. From the spa. Nose in Kindle, Hux absolutely did not surreptitiously watch when Man Mountain picked up his towel, grabbed his tote bag and moved to the lounger next to his, arranged his towel and made the plastic squeak in alarm when he sat down.  
“Hi,” the Mountain said. “Are you a guest here too?”  
“Obviously,” Hux retorted, barely glancing up from his Kindle in case the sight of too much glistening, rippling skin caused embarrassment. “This is an exclusive establishment. They don’t let you just walk in here off the street.”  
“Only asking,” huffed the Mountain, lying back on his lounger. Hux hauled his eyes back onto his Kindle from the bulge in the Mountain’s swimming shorts. Man Mountain rummaged in his bag and put in a set of cheap earbuds, tapping his phone until tinny music leaked out to irritate Hux. After fifteen minutes of reading the same page over and over without any sense of what the sentences meant, Hux harrumphed, got up, gathered his towel and left.

Fortunately, Hux’s room had a spacious balcony. He arranged the two wicker chairs and drinks table to his liking and lounged there to read for the rest of the morning. He could hear the sounds of he resort distantly: the splashes and shrieks as the pool grew busier, music from the bar when it opened at eleven, and housekeeping when they came to service his room just before noon. At twelve thirty, Hux swapped his novel for the resort guest guide, chose a restaurant for lunch and set off for the ‘Fifties Diner’. It did not disappoint in terms of atmosphere. Red leatherette and chrome booths and stools, pale formica tables and a long, horseshoe bar with seating around it perfectly evoked the era for people who had been born two or more decades later. A vintage jukebox glowed in the corner and rock and roll classics played at a tasteful volume. The host took his name, confirmed that he was dining alone, and to his seething affront looked straight past him and invited a group of four to take the only vacant booth.  
“I am so sorry sir,” she said, smiling professionally at Hux’s displeasure. “We do get busy. It’s restaurant policy between twelve and two to seat groups at the booths and single diners at the bar.” She indicated the heaving diner. “You could take a seat at the bar now, or come back at two and see if there’s a booth?”  
Hux sighed, mentally composing a strong letter of complaint to the resort management, but hunger dictated his decision. “The bar will do,” he said.  
“Then follow me, please,” she said, flapping a menu into his hand and walking into the diner. Hux followed to the last remaining vacant seat, and groaned. There were _forearms_ on the bar. Large ones, attached to a large man.

“Hi again,” said Man Mountain when he had chewed and swallowed a massive bite of burger, then he sucked a dribble of salsa from his little finger. “We seem to keep bumping into each other.” He held out the hand he’d just licked. “Name’s Ben.”  
Hux stared at the hand then tentatively shook it. “Hux,” he said, surreptitiously wiping his hand on the leg of his shorts.  
“Mmm, you should order the blue cheese juicy lucy.” Ben sank his teeth into his burger again. Hux watched in horrified fascination as melted cheese oozed from inside the meat. A pale smear sat on Ben’s lower lip until his pink tongue caught it and he hummed in appreciation before picking up four fries with his fingers and stuffing them into his mouth.  
“What can I get for ya?”  
Hux looked up at the waitress, all pink pinafore and pink-lipped smile. “I’ll have the, um.” He looked at the menu, unable to focus because of the distracting movements of Ben beside him. His eyes caught a blackboard menu behind the waitress’s pink headscarf. “I’ll have the, um, special.”  
The waitress grinned and nodded. “Good choice,” she said and turned towards the kitchen to call out, _”One blue cheese juicy!”_  
Beside him, Hux could almost feel Ben’s delight and it was only with difficulty that he did not swivel his stool, face him and growl, _”That was a coincidence and I am not taking gastronomical advice from a beast who can’t use cutlery.”_

Ben devoured his burger and fries, saving the pickled cucumber for last and closing his eyes as he sucked the vinegar from it, giving a little hum of pleasure that made Hux’s face heat up. Hux was manhandling his burger at the time, trying to work out how to eat it without making a mess. He paused, burger bun carefully jammed into his right hand, and speared his own pickle with his fork, bit off the end with a satisfying crunch and put it down again. He suppressed a snigger when Ben gave a little cough.  
“Dessert, hun?” The waitress cocked a perfectly plucked eyebrow at Ben.  
“Apple pie?”  
“You got it,” she said and wandered off with a wink and a smile.  
Hux smirked as he chewed and swallowed. “I think she likes you,” he said.  
“Nah,” Ben replied. “She flirts with everyone. Gets more tips that way.”  
“She’s not flirting with me,” Hux said, taking another bite of his surprisingly delicious burger.  
“That’s because you’re... you come across as...” Ben frowned. Hux frowned back while he dealt with his succulent mouthful of meat and melted cheese.  
“What? Because I’m what?”  
Ben turned to face him and spoke more seriously, more quietly. “Look I know _gaydar_ is based on outdated stereotypes and isn’t really a thing but you do come across as, well—”  
“Gay?”  
“Yes.”  
Hux picked up his burger again, said, “Thank goodness for that. I thought she assumed she’d be wasting her time because I’m British. Notoriously poor tippers.” Then he took another bite.  
Ben choked a bit and his eyebrows shot up. “You’re British?”  
He waited for Hux to make eye contact then grinned. The waitress put a plate of steaming apple pie and ice cream in front of Ben, refilled his coffee and took the cash he tucked into the check with a smile and a cheerful, ”Aw, thanks hun, you take your time, now,” although she had already moved her attention over to her next customers.  
As Ben tucked into his apple pie, Hux dropped his crumpled napkin onto the remaining half of his burger and most of his fries. He tucked a twenty under his plate, smiled and winked at the waitress and left.

On the way back to his room, Hux almost wilted under the heat of delayed humiliation. Fortunately, once he got inside and the air con cooled his skin, he pushed the thought of Ben making fun of him from his mind. He caught up on some emails, packed a tote bag for an afternoon lazing on the beach then strolled the short distance to where the concrete walkway that ran parallel with the beach behind the hotel slipped into burning hot, golden-white sand that sparkled and glittered when the light caught it just right. Flashing his room keycard got him access to the exclusive area where sun loungers lay in pairs either side of small tables, oversized umbrellas shaded them and a hut housed a reasonably well-stocked beachside bar. Hux ordered a mocktail, spread his towel on his assigned lounger on the first row where his view of the sea was unobstructed, covered every square inch of accessible skin with sunscreen, and let his eyes drift closed. He woke when his drink arrived and he picked it up, took a sip of the sweet-bitter concoction, and watched the swimmers and surfers.

Hux let his gaze drift from person to person, secure that his sunglasses prevented anyone from realising he was actually watching them. His eyes rested on one particular figure more than the others. He was tall, broad-shouldered and had good poise on his board, which impressed Hux more when it turned out to be a shortboard barely taller than the surfer himself. The surfer would paddle out, become lost to Hux’s damnably imperfect human eyesight, then reappear with the sun shining silver and gold on his tanned skin and dark hair, then collapse into the white water with a laugh before paddling out again. Hux felt his eyes drifting closed again. He shifted onto his stomach, took off his sunglasses and tuned out the giggles and yells of the people splashing around in the shallows. Above him, gulls screeched and cried. nearby, waves swooshed and crashed in a regular, comforting rhythm and the scent of coconut oil and brine mingled with aromatic smoke drifted in from someone’s fire-pit barbecue. In Hux’s half-dozing dreams, a suntanned, powerfully built surfer offered to rub more coconut-scented sunscreen into his skin. Slowly.

He woke to the less pleasant sensation of cold water droplets spattering his sun-warmed back and pushed himself upright so abruptly he almost tipped off his lounger. “What the—” he yelped, then closed his mouth at the sight of the surfer standing beside him.  
“Sorry,” said Ben, “and hello again. You got the spare lounger next to mine while I was surfing.”  
Hux glared at Ben then realised he wasn’t wearing his sunglasses. He snatched them up and put them on, ignoring the smear that blurred his vision. He realised with growing heat in his cheeks that the surfer he had admired so much was Ben.  
Ben frowned at Hux’s legs and pointed. “You wore sunscreen, right? Only you’re burning. You should probably cover up.”  
Hux twisted to looked down at his calves. While he dozed, the shade from the umbrella had moved and exposed some of his pale, pale skin to direct sunlight. He retracted his legs back under shade and cursed.  
“It might not be so bad,” Ben said. “Want some help putting sunblock on?”  
“No,” said Hux sharply. “Thank you,” he added in a more polite tone. “I shouldn't really be out in the sun.” He stood up, gathered his belongings and stuffed them into his tote bag. He spared Ben a glance and saw that the man looked disappointed. “Given the experiences of this one day so far,” he said, “I expect I’ll see you again.”  
He found himself smiling in return at Ben’s grin.

Hux went back to the refrigerated safety of his room. Luckily the soles of his feet had been protected by his sandals but his lower calves were red and would itch horribly for a day or two, peel and flake, then return to their usual milky whiteness within a couple of weeks. The balcony was in direct sunlight and was therefore out of bounds. Hux decided on a cool shower, a short nap and a walk around the resort shops before dinner. Dressed in slacks that hid the embarrassing stripe of sunburn and a loose linen shirt in a colour that brought out the green of his eyes, he went in search of a pharmacy that might sell a brand of aftersun that actually worked or, if not, any skincare product that contained a topical anaesthetic. In the resort pharmacy, none of the products branded as aftersun were suitable since they contained only moisturisers and this season’s most fashionable plant extracts. The pharmacy assistant said they had never heard of calamine lotion, but suggested an alternative remedy and led Hux to the appropriate shelf. As Hux picked up a large tube of haemorrhoid relief cream, motion caught his eye and he tuned his head.  
“Hi,” said Ben, box of condoms and pump-action bottle of lube in his hands.  
Hux averted his eyes as soon as he recognised the objects Ben was holding. “Hello again,” he said. He held up the soothing cream he’d chosen. “This is for my sunburn.”  
“Oh,” Ben looked away this time. “Okay.”  
Since the ground failed to open up and swallow him whole, Hux walked to the till, paid and left.

Back in the privacy of his room, he massaged a generous layer of cream into his tightening sunburn then headed down to the hotel restaurant. A professionally smiling host intercepted him at the entrance.  
“Good evening sir. Do you have a reservation?”  
“What? I’m a resident here. I don’t need to book, do I?”  
“I’m afraid we get very busy since this restaurant is also open to non residents. I can fit you in at...” The host’s smile got ten percent sunnier. “Nine forty five tonight. Table for one?”  
“What!” Hux felt anger and disappointment rise, fuelled by hunger.  
“No good?” The host looked around as if hoping backup was close by in case of sudden customer ire. “You could try the surfshack bar. They serve a range of snacks and drinks until eight.”  
“Excuse me?” Hux turned and the host’s eyebrows rose. “Table for two in the name Kylo Ren.”  
The host’s face relaxed in relief. “Excuse me, sir,” they said to Hux with a curt nod, then picked up two menus and smiled at Ben. “This way please.”  
Ben turned to Hux, winked and said, “Coming?”  
Hux frowned in confusion but Ben beckoned him to follow. He told himself as he set off after Ben and the host that pride was not a good enough reason to turn down a gourmet meal at a swanky restaurant in favour of dodgy tacos at a sand strewn beach bar.

The host seated them, lit the candle on the table and opened the wine list before returning to their station. Hux glared through narrowed eyes at Ben while Ben studied the menu. After a full minute, Ben looked over the top of the padded, leatherette, gold-lettered presentation folder and sighed. “Look, you want dinner and I always book a table for two when I’m dining alone. If you ask for a table for one you get stuck right next to the kitchen door, or the toilets, or behind a pillar, or  under a loudspeaker, and sometimes the staff can’t wait to get rid of you.”  
Hux huffed and nodded at the familiar scenes Ben’s admission brought up in his own memory. “Well then,” he said, smiling at last. “Thank you for inviting me to join you.”  
Ben smiled back and returned his attention to the menu. He recommended dishes to Hux and Hux recommended wine. They eventually settled on steak for Ben, duck for Hux, two sides to share and a bottle of mid-priced red wine. Ben, Hux was delighted to find out, had passable table manners after all. He chewed and swallowed before he spoke and never slurped. He was an interesting person to chat with and Hux felt a little disappointed when the server arrived with the bill and Ben insisted on signing it to his room number. With the server waiting to clear their table for the next diners, Hux and Ben left before they were finished their conversation. In the hotel lobby, Ben stood quietly, hands in his pockets, a tense little frown on his face. Hux hung back and said, “I want to take a stroll along the beach now I can’t get sunburn. Would you care to join me?”  
“Sure,” said Ben, smiling like the sun had risen at night just to light his way.

Hux walked out of the hotel and down the path to the beach with Ben beside him, occasionally bumping arms when they had to move aside to let someone else pass. The concrete walkway between the sand and the hotel gardens thronged with people walking and talking, laughing and smoking, calling to children who were entranced by the soaring displays of multicoloured light-up spinners being sold by the side of the path. Hux walked through them and onto the sand, cool now that the sun no longer baked it to a skin-searing heat. They slipped and slid, shoes sinking into soft sand, closer to the damp stretch where foam glimmered silver white in the moonlight. Hux stopped and took off his shoes. Ben did the same. Shoes in hand, they walked along the compacted sand with cool wavelets rushing over their bare toes, talking about very little indeed. When Hux realised they had walked far enough that the gaiety of the resort was reduced to the occasional laugh or brassy swell in the jazz from the bar, he stopped. Their free hands touched and linked, and they stood side by side looking out over the ocean at the rippling reflection of the moon. For thirty seconds, Hux imagined what might happen next. Just as he found the courage to raise his arm to Ben’s waist, turn his head just so and maybe lean closer and find out, a vehicle with swirling lights drove slowly past and a uniformed coastguard leaned out of the window and yelled at them.

_”You are STONGLY advised to get OUT of the water. Accidental shutdown at the water treatment plant. Untreated sewage coming down the coast.”_

Hux could not move fast enough. He released Ben, leapt and pranced, shrieking, from the ankle-deep water to the dry sand and made his way as quickly as he could to one of the stand-pipes that spouted fresh water here and there at the top of the beach. They rinsed their feet and walked back to the hotel, bare soles slapping on the hard concrete. In the hotel lobby, Hux smiled a little ruefully. “Well then,” he said. “I expect I’ll run into you tomorrow.”  
Ben nodded back and replied, “I expect you will.” He seemed to hesitate, then smiled and added, “Goodnight, then.”  
Hux returned to his room, unsure of what had just happened.

Next morning, Hux took even more care than usual over his hair and standard of casual dress then headed down to the restaurant for breakfast. Ben was not in sight, so Hux helped himself to his usual fare from the buffet and sat at a table where he could watch the entrance. Ben arrived as Hux tucked into his fruit salad. Hux looked up and smiled, ready to wave Ben over, but Ben was not alone. He watched in horror as Ben pulled out a chair for a much older man, quite bald and dressed in a gold silk-linen suit, then brought the man a selection of food from the buffet before he served himself. _Well then,_ Hux thought bitterly. _Ben has a sugar daddy._ He pushed his bowl away and turned down a coffee refill when the server came to clear his table. He took one more surreptitious glance at Ben’s companion, noting the greyish mottled skin, thin, parted lips, yellowed teeth and the layer of sparse stubble on his wrinkled jowls with disgust. _Old enough to be his grandfather. Ugh. Is that who really paid for my dinner last night?_ Hux marched out of the restaurant without a backward glance.

Today there was no well built swimmer to watch by the pool and at lunch time he got a seat at the diner between two people who respected his personal space. The waitress in pink welcomed him with a warm cry of, “Hi hun, back again?” but didn’t flirt. He ordered the sliders with salad and sat listening to the corny rock and roll music. A commotion at the door made him turn his head and his heart sank. A tall but stooping, impossibly thin man in a gold coloured suit shuffled in with Ben behind him. They were seated at a booth in Hux’s direct line of vision. He felt his blood begin to boil at the way Ben acted towards the old bastard, leaning forward to listen when he spoke, smiling and laughing as if on cue, and completely blanking everyone else in the diner. Hux paid and left as soon as he could.

That afternoon, the beach lounger next to his was unoccupied and Hux lay in the shade alternately reading and watching the surfers. Ben, of course, was not among them and Hux, of course, wasn’t looking for him. He ordered a pomegranate mojito from the bar and looked up in surprise when a man who was definitely not the waiter set it down on his table alongside another gently sweating drink.  
“Hello,” the newcomer said with a smile. “Do you mind if I use this lounger? Mine’s broken.”  
“Please yourself,” Hux replied.  
“Thanks,” the man said, sticking out his right hand. “I’m Dopheld.”  
“Hux,” said Hux, settling back with his Kindle but watching the swimmers and surfers over the top. Dopheld did not try to start a conversation and Hux lay still, pretending to read while he thought about Ben and his sugar daddy, about what they might be doing this afternoon, the image of Ben’s lips on that old man’s wrinkled—  
He turned to his quiet companion. “Hey, Dopheld was it?”  
“Mm-hmm?”  
“Can I get you a drink?”  
Dopheld smiled to reveal perfect white teeth and Hux thought he might do the job of taking his mind off Ben just well enough.

Two mojitos later, Hux was ready to ask Dopheld back to his room when he glimpsed gold linen and looked up the beach to see Ben with his sugar daddy on the concrete strip that separated the beach from the hotel. He was supporting the old man with an arm and Hux could just make out claw-like fingers gripping Ben’s wrist. _Why not,_ thought Hux.  
“I want to go up to my room to get something,” Hux said.  
“Oh?” Dopheld replied with a snigger. “What do you want to get?”  
“Laid,” said Hux with a giggle. Dopheld grinned and they collected their belongings and walked together into the hotel. Hux made sure they passed in front of Ben and his sugar daddy on the way in. But in the elevator, when Dopheld crowded Hux against the mirrored wall and reached up to kiss him, Hux turned his face away and held him off.  
“I don’t think I can do this,” Hux said. “Sorry.”  
“For fuck’s sake,” said Dopheld with a sigh, and muttered, “another curious straight.” The elevator stopped and Hux got out. Dopheld stayed on and Hux watched the number display count back down to the lobby, then went to his room and took a shower. Embarrassed enough that he did not want to risk running into either Ben or Dopheld, Hux ordered a sandwich from room service and flicked through the available cable channels for the rest of the evening rather than face the humiliation of the restaurant. Besides, he told himself, he hadn’t booked a table and Ben would not have a spare seat tonight. Reminded, he called the restaurant from his room and reserved a table for two for the following evening.

The dining room was relatively quiet at breakfast. Hux served himself from the buffet and scanned the tables. He recognised the dark, wavy hair and broad shoulders of Ben sitting alone, looking down at the glow from his phone, and walked past. Ben looked up and smiled, but Hux pretended not to notice him and sat with his back to Ben’s table, unable to bear the likely sight of him simpering at the old man who seemed to have such a hold over him. When Hux finished, Ben was gone but there was only one used plate and one dirty coffee cup on his table. After breakfast, Hux avoided the pool. Instead he took an excursion into town to visit the museum, ate an overpriced, prepackaged salad at its café, then returned to the hotel as the fiercest heat of the afternoon passed. It was not time for dinner yet, so Hux packed for a couple of hours at the beach. There was a hotel beach towel spread on the lounger beside his, but Hux could not see Ben amongst the surfers. He lay down, Kindle in hand, ordered a drink and fell into a half-doze.

He woke with a shriek when water splashed on his bare skin. A figure loomed above him, scowling. “Hi, asshole,” the figure said.  
“Oh. Hi, Ben.” Hux sat up and dried his chest and stomach. “Where’s your sugar daddy? Or is he your sugar granddaddy? Does he allow you to talk to other men?”  
Ben’s annoyed scowl turned into a confused frown. “What the fuck are you talking about?” He shook his head and glared. “Two days ago I thought we had something starting, you took me for a romantic walk on the beach then you gave me the brush off in the lobby. Yesterday you couldn’t bear to look at me until you paraded some other guy in front of me. And this morning? Oh that was special. Pretending you didn’t see me then sitting with your back to me like a sulky six year old. Nice.” Ben leaned closer, voice a low rumble, bare and burnished skin emanating heat that Hux could feel. “I waited and saw that other guy coming back out of the elevator five minutes after he got in with you. Did you really settle for a quick fumble in the elevator or is he the second person you’ve flirted with and not gone through with it? Are you  _experimenting?_ Because you’re not in college any more and I am pissed at you.”  
Hux went scarlet. He took a deep breath and forced his anger down. “You were the one parading your _well off older gentleman_ and ignoring me,” he said, voice rising enough to draw the attention of a few of the other hotel guests. “What was I supposed to think? And... and giving you the _brush off?_ I was waiting for you to, I dunno, offer to see me safely to my room or invite me for a drink or something! Are you really so slow on the uptake? I held your hand. A little sign that you wanted more would have been helpful. What else did you want me to do to show you I liked you? Stick my tongue down your throat?”

There followed a second of utter silence where even the ululations of the gulls and the roar of the waves seemed to pause. Hux glared at Ben. Ben glared back. “Yes,” Ben said after another few seconds, and time started again.  
“Yes what?” snapped Hux.  
“Yes, I want you to stick your tongue down my throat.”  
Hux felt his stomach fizz and the tingle in his groin grew more insistent. But the moment passed. Hux asked crossly, “What about the old geezer in the gold suit?”  
“My boss. He’s got a beach house here. He’s paying for this trip and he wanted to discuss some stuff about a company he’s just taken over.”  
Hux shifted on the lounger and looked back out to sea. “Not your sugar daddy then.”  
Ben shook his head. “Nope.” He laughed. “But he does like to know where I am. What about that guy you dragged into the elevator?”  
“Not my type,” said Hux with a shrug.  
“So you have a type,” said Ben. “What’s your type?”  
“Hmm,” Hux tapped his fingers on his jaw. “Tall,” he said, looking at Ben from bare toes to wavy hair. “Good hair,” he added. “Muscular,” he murmured, letting his gaze rove over toned abs and well developed pecs. “Not too pushy,” he whispered as Ben’s face came closer. “Good kisser,” he thought, as Ben’s mouth pressed against his. He closed his eyes, pushed his hand into Ben’s mane and slipped his tongue between Ben’s lips. Ben sagged onto Hux’s lounger, making it dip precariously under their combined weight, and leaned down to kiss Hux again. Hux trailed his fingers from Ben’s shoulder down his chest and under the waistband of his shorts. Someone whistled. Ben pulled back, sliding off Hux to kneel on the sand and looking around. Hux laughed and stood up to put on his shirt, leaving it flapping open, and gathered his things. “Coming?” he said. “I don’t want to get banned from the beach. My room? Unless you want to take me to your boss’s beach house.”  
“Why not,” Ben said, shrugging. “He’s not there.”

Ben led Hux along the concrete beach walk, away from the hotel and towards the beach houses that clustered beside it. A swipe of Ben’s keycard granted them access to this most exclusive part of the resort and Hux looked around at holiday homes that cost more to rent for a month than he made in a whole year. Ben walked up to the entrance of one that had a prime beachfront site and paused on the verandah for Hux to catch up. Instead of going inside, he led Hux around the verandah to a private seating area with a fire pit and garden furniture. A chest-height wall and an iron railing separated by a couple of rows of spiky aloe vera plants, a deep pink bougainvillea and a couple of small palm trees kept them from view of the beach walkway that passed only a few feet away. As long as they remained seated, they would have relative privacy. Ben dumped his stuff on a chair and sat in the centre of a padded wicker sofa in the shade of the wall, stretching his arms out along the back. Hux dropped his bag and towel and sat on Ben. He leaned down. Ben placed one massive hand on his jaw to steady his head and kissed him. Hux could hear laughs and snatches of chatter from the footpath. He grinned and pulled back an inch.  
“What’s funny?” said Ben.  
“This. Here.” Hux combed his fingers through Ben’s hair then dropped his hand to Ben’s shoulder, giving the muscles a squeeze and sliding his hand down to caress Ben’s pectorals. “Feeling you up with people walking past, oblivious.”  
“Oh you like that?” Ben grinned and lowered his voice. “I got a boner when I had my massage because I knew the hot redhead was on the next couch. I kept thinking, what if it was your long fingers touching me? What if you took over my massage and we fucked right there?”  
Hux huffed out a laugh. “Were you aware that I could see you walking around naked?”  
“Of course,” said Ben, grinning back. “Why else would I have flaunted it like that?”

Hux kissed Ben again, deep but unhurried. He felt his stomach flutter and his cock twitch at the sensation of Ben’s lips and tongue on his, Ben’s hand gripping his hip, and at the thought of what he wanted to happen next. He shifted to kneel straddling Ben and stroked Ben’s thigh up and under his baggy swim shorts to the crease of his hip and back again. Ben’s hands moved from Hux’s jaw to the open front of his shirt and rubbed circles on his chest, a thumb or finger pulling over his nipples and making them stand erect. He pulled Hux closer, ducked his head and fixed his lips around one puckered nipple. Hux bit his lip to keep from whimpering, then when Ben released him he buried his face in the crook of Ben’s neck, mouthing and sucking at hot, salt skin. Ben tasted of the sea and smelled like smoke and warm sand, and he made no effort to hold back the lewd groan he let out as Hux’s teeth grazed across the side of his throat. Hux’s hand reached down to press against his cock, rubbing its length through flimsy fabric.  
“What do you want, Ben?” Hux said quietly.  
“Fuck me,” replied Ben. “Look in my bag.”  
Hux pulled Ben’s bag over and looked inside. He laughed and took out the lube and condoms, still in their paper bag from the pharmacy.

Ten minutes later, Hux knelt on the ground, shorts and swimming briefs pulled to mid-thigh, knees protected from being grazed and bruised by the concrete with a folded over beach towel. Ben lay back on the sofa, hips slid forwards, shorts pulled just clear of his arse, calves resting on Hux’s shoulders, hands grasping the back of the wicker sofa behind his head. Arms gripping Ben’s thighs, Hux thrust in a slow, regular rhythm, watching Ben’s face through half-closed eyes.  
“Touch me,” came Ben’s quiet murmur, and his eyes flickered open. “Use your hands.”  
Hux splayed one hand on Ben’s belly and clasped the other loosely around Ben’s cock, teasing them both with shallow strokes and shallower thrusts until Ben cursed and started bucking his hips, thrusting up into Hux’s fist. Hux laughed and paused to kiss Ben, then moved the hand that steadied him from Ben’s stomach to the sofa, leaned forward and thrust faster and harder, stroking Ben’s cock, delighting in the sounds of his slick hand and his skin slapping on Ben’s. When Ben came, wailing Hux’s name and clenching around him, Hux let himself chase his own climax and came seconds later. He released Ben’s cock and collapsed onto him, pulling a face at the come smeared between them, and sucked kisses onto Ben’s neck and shoulder. He pulled out slowly and sat back on his heels.

Someone cleared their throat. Ben sat up abruptly and grabbed a cushion to cover his lap.  
“There really is no point,” a voice said behind Hux. “I have been here for five minutes.”  
Hux scrambled to his feet and tried to pull up his shorts so quickly that he almost fell over. It was the old man in the gold silk-linen suit.  
“Um, I’ll be—” he said, grabbing his towel and pointing at the exit.  
“Yeah, see you later,” Ben replied.  
Hux snatched up his bag and fled.

Hux did not see Ben later. Ben was not at breakfast the next day and Hux was disinclined to go knocking on the door of the beach house, and anyway his keycard would not let him through the gate. A quick check with hotel reception confirmed that the party staying at the beach house had checked out and left and no, he could not have a contact email or a message forwarded to them on his behalf. Ben, irritating but hot Ben, was gone.

The rest of the vacation was dull in comparison. Hux itched to get back to work and when his last morning came, he checked out with a smile and sat in the airport lounge catching up on his emails. His diary, he noted proudly, now boasted a face to face meeting with with the CEO and the rest of the directors. He read over his Starkiller notes, requested progress updates for the next stage of testing, and scripted some of the clever things he wanted to say. When Monday morning arrived, Hux slicked back his hair, dressed in his favourite suit (soft charcoal grey with a tie that brought out the colour of his eyes) and drove confidently into the section of the car park reserved for directors. There was a plaque with his name on it already in place above one of the spaces. He looked at the cars either side. To his left, a two-seater coupé. He sneered. Edrison Peavey’s predictable mid-life crisis. To his right, a vintage Corvette that barely fitted into the space and stuck out three feet at the back. He studied the gleaming paintwork and peered inside at the leather upholstery. The name plate said _Assistant to CEO: Kylo Ren._ Hux tightened his lips. Must be someone brought in by the new CEO. He thought he might have heard the name Kylo Ren before and wondered how long it would take him to find this Kylo Ren’s weaknesses and replace him.

He took the elevator to his new office where his personal assistant would be waiting for him with a briefing on the challenges of the coming week. He walked past the man sitting at the desk in the open plan area outside his office, put his laptop bag down and looked up as the door opened after a double-rap. His jaw slackened and his face paled.  
“Oh, _bugger me_ ,” said the other man.  
“Good thing I didn’t,” replied Hux. After a moment’s thought, he said, “Dopheld, isn’t it?”  
“Yes, sir.” Dopheld shuffled his feet and looked away. “I didn’t connect the _Hookes_  I met on vacation with the _Hux_ I was employed to PA for. I suppose you’ll want me replaced.”  
Hux shook his head. “No. I want you right here.” He saw Dopheld redden and hastily added, “As my _loyal_ PA. Nothing else.”  
“Understood,” said Dopheld, recovering quickly. “Would you like me to get you some tea before we go through your diary?”

Hux nodded. Dopheld brought his tea and called up Hux’s schedule for the day.  
“You have a directors’ meeting with CEO Snoke at ten thirty. Before that, I scheduled time to go through your Starkiller presentation. I, um, I added a few ideas. Here and there. They’re colour coded so you can ignore them easily. After that you have a lunch date with CEO Snoke’s assistant in his office.”  
“Lunch date?” Hux frowned.  
“Appointment. Working lunch.” Dopheld shrugged. Hux listened while Dopheld rattled off the rest of his obligations for the day and then he gave instructions on which project leaders he wanted personal reports from, then dismissed Dopheld so that he could prepare for his meeting with Snoke. Hux frowned as he read, but when he practised his presentation aloud to his empty office, Dopheld’s suggestions made his ideas sound better.

At ten thirty exactly, Hux strode into the CEO’s conference room and took a seat. At ten thirty two, he wanted to crawl under it and hide, suddenly remembering why the name ‘Kylo Ren’ had not been completely unfamiliar. CEO Snoke walked in and took his seat, resplendent in a gold silk-linen suit. Behind him walked Ben in a suit made of red fabric so dark it looked black until the light caught it just so. Ben sat on Snoke’s right and looked around the table. When he eyes met Hux’s, he smiled. Somehow, Hux got through his presentation without forgetting his words or stumbling over them. Snoke said something that could be construed as praise and Hux sat back to listen to the other directors explain their pet projects. It was almost one o’clock when Snoke ended the meeting and shuffled out, followed by 'Kylo Ren’.

His personal phone buzzed with a text almost as soon as he left the room.

 

_Hope I didn’t freak you out in there._

_Did you give me a false name last week?_

  
_No, it’s my old name. Snoke made me pack and leave right away._

_Does he know who I am?_

  
_He only saw your beautiful backside. Probably blinded by the glare from your full moon._

  
_Not funny. I could lose my job._

  
_You won’t. I promise. I told him the hot redhead’s name was Dameron._

  
_So what’s the working lunch for? Who’s coming?_

  
_Not working lunch. Date. Hopefully you._

 

Hux made his way to Kylo Ren’s office. It was, he was equally impressed and disgusted to see, bigger than his own. Ben, no,  _Kylo_ shushed him and steered him back out as soon as he arrived, across to the elevators, downstairs and right out of the building. He only spoke once they were safely seated at a table for two in the kind of upmarket restaurant that provides privacy through the use of hard surfaces and decibels.  
“I didn’t have your full name. I couldn’t get your room number or your email from the receptionist,” Kylo said. “She was good. Works for us now. Starting next week as PA to the head of security.”  
Hux smiled. “Phasma will be pleased. I couldn’t get your details from her either.”  
Kylo smiled back and leaned forwards, leaning back again as their server came to take their order. Once they regained the illusion of being alone, Kylo said, “Do you want to start over?”  
Hux frowned. “What do you mean?”  
“I mean,” said Kylo, “from the beginning. Hi I’m Kylo and you’re hot. Like that.”  
“You mean like, I’m Hux and you’ve pulled?” said Hux.  
“Nice suit, I bet it’ll look great on my floor,” said Kylo.  
Hux laughed. “Is it hot in here, or is that just you?”  
They were silent for the long minute it took for the server to place two bowls of soup on the table and ask if everything was correct.  
Kylo leaned forward over his soup and said, “They say you are what you eat and I want to be you.”  
Hux grinned and replied, “I’d make a joke about my cock but it would be too long.”  
Kylo trapped Hux’s ankles between his. “What are you doing this afternoon?”  
Hux held up one forefinger, took out his company phone and found Dopheld’s number. He typed, _Reschedule all my afternoon appointments. Something has come up with Kylo Ren._ He held up the screen and raised his eyebrows. Kylo read, and slowly nodded once. Hux hit send. Kylo sent a message to Snoke, saying he had some fine details of Starkiller to discuss with Hux. Once done, Kylo looked at Hux and repeated, “So what are you doing this afternoon?”  
Hux smiled. “You.”


End file.
